


You Got Me Hanging From the Ceiling

by MereWhispers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (also:) - Freeform, (if you came for finesse this ain't it), (that's all this fic basically is), (this is actually very ridiculous), Attempt at Humor, Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Identity Reveal, Jealousy, Love, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Nerdiness, Pining, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Stupidity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MereWhispers/pseuds/MereWhispers
Summary: MJ drags the chair opposite them—she's never sat so close to their seats—and leans forward. Her eyes turn to slits. “Thought you'd lost it?”Peter's breathing sort of speeds up, sweat breaking on his forehead, and,dear God,what the hell is wrong with him, Ned'll have a field day if he gets anything on his phone, and he'd beright, because,what the hell is wrong with him, it'sjust MJ!Maybe he's just scared.Or, Peter Parker is slowly falling for MJ, while MJ seems to be slowly falling for Spider-Man. But, wait—it's the same thing.Is it really, though?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> On the auspicious occasion of Far From Home's trailer release, I present to you, with real tears in my eyes, my first ever spideychelle fic!!!
> 
> PS. I went all out, applied all the phys, chem and math I wasted my final high school years on. So. This is gonna have a LOT of those references. Be warned!
> 
> (And, c'mon, this is two nerds' love story, what'd you expect?)

They're two weeks into Junior Year. Things have been smooth- _ish_. Flash has already thrown a celebratory party for everyone that passed—which: _important_ , because Peter's after some guys from that party—Ned’s had two existential crises, MJ's proving to be a _way_ tougher leader than Liz, Betty Brant is single again, and, well.

Things are _normal_.

Until, at eleven-forty am on a seemingly harmless Tuesday, they're suddenly _not_.

And not necessarily in a bad way, just…a very _weird_ way.

Peter has been zoning in and out of the calc lecture for past twenty minutes, his eyes fixed on the “How Spider-Man Swings: A Theory” video on YouTube that he has been playing at fifty percent speed on his laptop. He needs to work on keeping his forearms closer to his body for agility, according to the guy who made the video.

Huh. He's gonna work on it, because it's actually pretty good criticism.

But, also, _more importantly_ , someone obviously installed a hidden camera on their rooftop to capture this video, which should ring warning bells in Peter's head. Keyword: _should_. He's actually kinda more _flattered_ than warned.

Is he stupid?

Oh, definitely.

He's probably the stupidest Avenger. Not that he _is_ an Avenger, because he has said no to Mister Stark, but—

“Mister Parker!”

“Shit, shit.” Peter scrambles to shut his laptop with a discreetly placed elbow over it, and rushes to straighten from his recline. “Sir?” he mumbles, then, wide eyes scanning the board for…

Oh, shit, is that a _graph_? He's _so_ dead…

“Could you help the class determine the domain for the function represented by this graph?”

They're on freaking _graphs_? His weakest point in all of math. When did they get to _graphs_? They were just introduced to the sketchy concept of functions and ranges and domains, like, yesterday!

His eyes shift to a side, landing on Ned who's hiding his face behind a palm— _because he knows Peter's horrible at graphs_ —then on Betty Brant who's hand is high up— _because, of course she knows all the answers_ —and then on—

“Um, all _x_ less than or equal to three by two,” he reads out, quickly, very easily shifting his eyes away from MJ's held out hand, because, well, he's got super good Spidey-reflexes and can be stealthy if he's careful.

The teachers eyebrows slant, mouth pulls to a side, but Peter knows he's safe, because MJ told him the answer and MJ is, like, _never_ wrong.

Unless she wants his ass to be dragged out of class, because he missed AcaDec practice yesterday, _and at least four more times in the past two weeks_ , and probably will, today, too—he’s been trying to track down a group of people he suspects are responsible for circulating drugs in Flash's party, and—

Maybe MJ gave him the wrong answer, and _dang it_ , he's profoundly screwed. Why did he even trust her? They aren't even really friends!

Until:

“Just because you're good at graphical representation of functions, it doesn't give you the liberty to fawn over Spider-Man in my class, Mister Parker.”

Peter deflates. Ducks his head. Looks at Ned to find him looking between him and MJ with eyes as big as saucers. He gives a conspicuous shrug when Ned raises his eyebrows in his direction.

Something very suspicious crosses Ned's face, and Peter nods. Because, _same_.

He squints at MJ, willing her to _sense_ that he is looking. But if she does anything excellently—other than all the academic brilliance she eludes, that is—it is ignoring people.

Peter represses a groan.

“Spider-Man _fanboy_ , Penis Parker? Not _friends_ anymore?”

Flash snickers from a few seat behind him.

Peter wishes his middle finger had the kind of self-confidence MJ's does, but, _wishful thinking, ha_ , so—

_Ugh_.

What's Flash Thompson doing in AP calculus, anyway?

“Mister Parker.”

Peter fights back _another_ groan. Stands up, this time. “Mister Harrington?”

The man enters the class, an apologetic glance tossed at the teacher. “You've missed five practices in two weeks, Peter. I'd like to see you after school, today. _If_ you're not planning to miss today's practice, too.”

Peter purses his lips. _Fudge_. “Okay, Mist—”

“ _I'll take that one_! I mean, can _I_ see you, instead, Mister Harrington? There's something I wanna discuss.”

Half of the class gasps. The other half, including the math teacher, gapes. Peter does both.

In his peripheral vision, Ned does both, too.

Mister Harrington nods. “Okay, Michelle. But _you_ talk to Parker, then.”

MJ gives him a peace sign, and Mister Harrington leaves with another apologetic look thrown towards the math teacher.

Peter falls into his seat. A paper ball lands in his lap.

**_did you bribe her or something?_ **

He shakes his head at Ned. Ned slumps on his table.

Another paper ball lands in his lap.

**_dude she's going to kill you in your sleep tonight_ **

Peter nods at Ned, receives a thumbs up back.

He shuts his laptop for real, this time, droning the teacher's voice out, and settles for drilling his gaze at the back of MJ's head.

* * *

“Dude.” Ned’s whisper expresses the exact amount of disbelief that has been flowing through Peter when they fall in stride after the end of the class.

Peter is still staring at the back of MJ's head.

“ _Dude._ ”

Peter nods, because, _exactly_.

“How—”

“Dunno.”

“ _Why_ —”

“Nope.”

“Has she ever—”

“ _Never_.”

“Something is—”

“Weird.”

“ _Extremely_.”

* * *

 

“AcaDec regionals. Next Wednesday, losers.”

Peter jumps. Tries to play it cool when Ned gives him a _Spidey-senses bro, don't overdo it_ look, but. He is _not_ overdoing it. MJ is just—

Good at many things. Sneaking up, too, apparently.

She leans over the lunch table, palms flat atop the surface, stray curls hanging over her shadowed face, eyes squinted at him. He is cornered. In a room full of people, _MJ has cornered him_.

Peter's brain kinda short-circuits, and he isn't sure if it's all fear.

_Uh_.

_What_?

“Y-yeah,” Peter fumbles, putting his half-eaten PB&J back into Ned's lunchbox. “I'll be there.”

“I’ll make sure he is.”

Ned's frowning at him, this time with a _it's MJ, dude,_ and _this is, like, a regular day in the life of being in the AcaDec team under MJ's captaincy_ look, and, right. Peter's aware of all that. But—

_But_ —

Something's different.

“Thank you, Leeds.” She gives a tiny salute to Ned, and—

Why does Ned _not_ find this weird?

Peter stares at her with wide eyes. She looks pretty, up-close, he realises, and his eyes widen further, because, _whoa_ , this is _MJ_ , she would—

Why is he thinking about things that'll get him punched?

She looks at him down her nose. “You flaking today, too, Parker?”

And, _ouch_. But, _oh shit_. “I, uh, you see… the—the Stark internship? I am, you know, _needed_ , you know—”

MJ drags the chair opposite them— _she's never sat so close to their seats_ —and leans forward. Her eyes turn to slits. “Thought you'd lost it?”

Peter's breathing sort of speeds up, sweat breaking on his forehead, and, _dear God,_ what the hell is wrong with him, Ned'll have a field day if he gets anything on his phone, and he'd be _right_ , because, _what the hell is wrong with him, it's_ ** _just MJ_** _!_

Maybe he's just scared.

“I—I—I did, yes, but I got it again. You know. Back. I got it back. Mister—Mister Stark gave it to me. I mean, he gave it back to me. Again.” His smile is a grimace at best, and Ned's started to make choking noises.

MJ leans back and he can breathe again. “Heh. Look at that. Lucky you. But also.” She purses her lips, raises a finger, and leans in, again. “I saved your ass, today, so that you'd _show up for practices_ , Parker! Consider this your first and last warning! You disappear on me again, you die!”

Peter's eyes widen, and this time it's _definitely_ unadulterated fear.

“I'm not as tolerant or innocent or ignorant as Liz.”

Peter's gasping for breath when she gets up and, like _vanishes_ out of the lunchroom. Ned's making some choking noises, again.

“Dude—”

“I know _._ ”

“—that was—”

“I _know_.”

“— _very weird!_ ”

“ _I know, Ned!_ ”

They breathe heavily for a couple of seconds. Ned clears his throat. Peter wipes his forehead.

“So… you gonna show up for practice?”

Peter silently picks up his PB&J. “I gotta, if I wanna live.”

* * *

“Centres of mass, everyone,” MJ announces as soon as she takes the podium.

Peter sits up straighter. Physics. _Yay!_

“Semi circular ring?”

“Two times radius by pie.” Peter grins at her when MJ's surprised gaze meets his.

“Semi circular half disc ring?” Her eyes hold a challenge.

Peter almost smirks. _Hah_. “Four times the radius by three times pie.”

“Hemispherical shell—”

“Radius by two—”

“Uniform solid hemisphere—”

“Three times the radius by eight—”

“Hollow cone—”

“The height divided by three—”

“Solid cone—”

“The height divided by four—”

“There are others in here, too,” Ned peeps from his seat diagonally across Peter, “you guys?”

Peters eyes widen. Ned has a _very_ weird look on his face, and he's looking between him and MJ.

He knows that look. He's seen that look, before, when Ned would tell him to tone it down with—

_Shit, shit, shit._

Peter can feel his cheeks heating up. Oh, no. Why, _why_ , Ned?

“Right. I was about to say.” MJ’s cheeks are _flaming_ pink, and she's never looked cuter.

_She really_ ** _will_** _kill you in your sleep if she ever heard that,_ he mentally warns himself.

But. She _does_ look adora—

_Okay, enough!_

He looks down at his hands. Doesn’t say another word for the entirety of the hour they practise for, switching between silently laughing when Flash messes up, and rolling his eyes when Ned releases lovelorn sighs in Betty Brant’s general direction.

“Alright, nerds. You know the drill. Same time, same place, _do not_ abstain till the next Wednesday. Reports and reviews.” MJ clears her throat, and Peter looks up. She’s looking at their reports, but Peter’s tingling senses tell him she wasn’t, a second ago. “Flash—study Physics, for once. Betty—great, as always, just brush up your quadratic equations. Leeds—great progress, good job. Murphy—clean your ears every once in a while. Abe—good job on the periodic table. Sally—meet me tomorrow morning, we’ll review Shakespeare. Parker—pay attention to your graphs for functions. Okay, that’s all, everyone, see you tomorrow.”

Everyone kinda pauses. Peter almost doesn’t breathe for a moment.

Graphs for functions have _nothing_ to do with AcaDec! And eveything to do with his personal performance in AP calc.

He sends a panicked look to Ned. Ned nods, vigorously, and, _oh, God_ , this is a whole new level of confusion and weirdness.

What is MJ _doing_?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hello, hi, I'm not dead!

Patrolling is not fun when Peter's got a bigger problem at the back of his mind. But the suspected-drug-dealers he was originally chasing have been playing cards for almost an hour in the warehouse he was watching over, so he has travelled a few blocks uptown to patrol.

For a long while, there's no activity. He swings from building to building, ends up on a rooftop of an abandoned building, and kind of just hangs there, looking around.

He's seriously bored. And he can't even talk to his best friend, because he's been trying to avoid Ned ever since their after school mini-confrontation.

( _They're leaving AcaDec practice, and Peter's still thinking about MJ's pink cheeks and her obvious concern for his class performance._

_Like, sure, it could be because she needs him to stay on the decathlon team, and that won't happen if his grades slip, but the pink cheeks and weird behavior doesn't really go with that theory, does it?_

_“So, MJ's definitely got a thing going on for you.”_

_Peters heart does not skip a beat. It_ **_does_ ** **_not._ ** _He rolls his eyes, waving a hand to dismiss the assertion. He laughs, feebly. “She's observant, Ned. She—she’s said it herself, multiple times.”_

_Ned stops walking, eyebrows raised in an incredulous look. “Peter, are you serious? That is so obviously a cover-up!”_

_Peter's palms start to sweat, and_ **_gah_ ** _, this is hell. “You think so?” He tries to play it cool, shrugging a shoulder. “I mean, okay, maybe she_ **_acts_ ** _like she has something going. Because, you know. It's MJ. She's always trying to find ways to freak us out.”_

_“Uh huh. Except you don't look even remotely freaked out to me. On the contrary, you seem to be acting just as much—if not_ **_more_ ** _—weird with her. Say, Pete. Do_ **_you_ ** _have a thing going for_ **_her_ ** _?”_

_Peter has no real way of hiding the heat that travels up to his face. He can hear Ned snickering under his breath. “_ **_No_ ** _, no, no—haha,_ **_no_ ** _, Ned. That's—that’s so…that's not true.”_

_Ned gives him a grin, nodding, and walks away in the direction of his home._

_Aw, hell. This isn't gonna end here.)_

Peter clicks his tongue at the memory, shooting off a web, and swings off the quiet, undistributed neighborhood that obviously doesn't need him.

He feels like he's thinking too much, but he can't seem to be able to help it.

He thinks about his own behaviour in the past few hours and grimaces. He believes he's been acting _somewhat_ weird ever since MJ saved his ass from detention as well as getting fried by Mister Harrington. But he _also_ believes that it's probably ought of gratitude.

_Huh. Should he really be claiming to “believe” something if he has to add a “probably” to it?_

“Ugh, what the hell wrong with me?” he groans to himself, swinging past rows of houses, and comes to a rest on the roof of a bank built opposite a Walmart.

Sighing to himself, he sits down and pulls the lower half of his mask up, exhaling into the rapidly cooling September air.

“Today’s been such a rollercoaster, man,” he mumbles to himself, half tempted to engage Karen in a conversation to pass time as he scans the area for any shady activities.

He feels like smacking his palm over his face when he finally spots something.

There's this sketchy looking dude that's grabbed a lady's bag and is trying to make a run for it. The lady's come out of the Walmart. There's, like, _twenty_ cameras around them _and_ a police station down the block.

Peter isn't even needed here, to be honest. But he's got nothing better to do, so. He's gotta put this idiot in his place.

With a sigh, he pulls his mask back down and swings off the rooftop to land in front of the guy. “Hello, Mister Thief! You seem to be in custody of something you're not supposed to have!”

The guy has a really pale, almost yellowish skin, and his pupils are almost dilated, and—

_Ugh_ , he smells _horrible_.

After quickly webbing him to a pole, Peter plucks the huge, expensive looking bag from the guy's hand.

He gives a little bow to the lady as he hands her bag back. “There you go, ma'am.”

The woman is middle-aged and he feels like he's somehow seen her before. She smiles, thanking him, and Peter can almost recognise her. Only, he can't. So he nods.

He swings up, ready to dart back to the warehouse, but lingers on the roof of the Walmart, glancing back at the woman as she hails a cab. She gives him a butterfly wave, making his cheeks immediately flush. He's _so_ grateful for his suit in the moment.

Her eyes…look _uncannily_ familiar…so much so, that he stares for a moment longer.

He bashfully ducks his head, then, in lieu of a bow in response to her wave.

_Where has he seen her?_

He swings when the car leaves, and goes back to trying to learn tricks at blackjack.

* * *

Peter almost skips school, the next day. He stayed posted outside the damn warehouse till one am in the morning, and what did the stupid suspected-drug-dealers do?

Play poker after blackjack.

He nearly slept through half of his classes, and Ned had to physically shake him awake in AP math, _multiple times_ , because, well, the teacher's out to get him after the whole Spider-Man fanboying incident yesterday.

So, yeah, Peter is extremely frustrated, sleep-deprived and, generally really cranky by the time lunch hour rolls by.

He mumbles a half-hearted “ _not gonna_ ” when Ned nudges him and asks about AcaDec.

“Dude, come on. You promised MJ you were gonna be regular, just _yesterday_.”

Peter clicks his tongue. _God,_ he hates his life sometimes. “I r'ly, r'ly, _r'ly_ c'n't,” he mumbles into the crook of his arms he's stuffed his face into. “’m d’d on m'f’t.”

“You are—you did what?”

“I’m dead on my feet,” Peter clarifies, turning his head sideway. Stares at the sandwich that Ned's gobbling down. Scrunches his nose up. “Is that _celery?_ ”

Ned's cheeks flame. “Um, uh—I guess?

Peter rolls his eyes. “Betty recommend you that?”

“She said this was her favorite recipe, so I tried it, but—” Ned looks like he's about to cry. “It tastes like _shit_ , Peter!”

Peter sits up, chuckling. “Celery in sandwich, dude. Of course it's gotta taste horrible.”

Peter senses it moments before the shadow drops on him. Which means she was walking fast. Not that he didn't sense _that_ , just that—

Well, he kinda wishes she wouldn't talk to them, right now, because so far Ned's only brought up Spider-Man stuff and no mentions of their after-school discussion from yesterday have come up, but Peter is eighty-nine percent sure that Ned’ll totally _jump_ the opportunity to tease the life out of Peter is he recalls it, which he no doubt will if MJ talks to them, right now.

Peter lets out a small puff of breath, feeling beyond exhausted. His brain is too tired for all this complex high-speed thinking.

He smiles to himself when MJ awkwardly clears her throat.

“Parker. Leeds.”

His smile kinda flattens away at the ire in her tone. Wait, why the _heck_ is he getting so darn affected, again? He looks up at MJ's squinted eyes. “Hey, MJ.”

“One week to go befo— _whoa_ , did you sleep with eyeliner on, last night, weirdo?” She gestures to her own, spotless under-eye area, and Peter groans at the reminder of the dark circles on his face that are yet to heal.

Ned's snort of laughter is really ugly—Peter is sure he glimpses a stray piece of celery flying towards the book MJ's holding—but Peter himself just purses his lips. “Um, no, I was just—”

“Oh, he hasn't been sleeping well, lately,” Ned, _unhelpfully_ , cuts in, drawing up a sorrowful face as he moves to pat Peter's shoulder.

Peter pulls away from the touch with a grimace. “ _Dude_!”

“ _What_? You were up till _two_ , last night, weren't you?” Ned dramatically bats his eyelids.

Peter looks at MJ, who's cocking an eyebrow at him, a somewhat unreadable look on her face.

Peter swallows. “Well, uh, yeah?”

“So? You can tell MJ that! She's our friend! Right, MJ?” Ned is having way too much fun with this, just as Peter feared he would.

He looks at MJ with a sigh, pleasantly surprised to find her avoiding both of their gazes at the mention of the friendship, her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of crimson.

_Whoa. There's that word again—_ ** _pretty_** _._ What's with his mind using it so much in MJ related thoughts?

MJ rolls her eyes, suddenly, planting the palm not holding her book next to Ned's lunchbox, on the table. “Is this an elaborate plan to escape today's practice?”

She's narrowed her eyes at Ned, and he looks hilariously torn between wanting to rebuff and wanting to run away. A meek sound of a half-chuckle escapes him, finally. “Well…Peter didn't _actually_ sleep with eyeliner on, y'know. The dark circles are very real.”

Peter faceplants himself on the table.

“The nationals are a _week_ away, Leeds!”

“But he's overworked, MJ!”

“He's a healthy boy of sixteen, Leeds!”

“He's still a _boy_ —”

“And are you his _nanny_ , you—

“—didn’t even— _hey!_ I'm a good friend—”

“—wasn’t even—”

“ _Guys!_ ” Peter groans, cutting MJ's hissed rebuttal off. “I'll be there. Please stop this?”

Ned looks actually, genuinely saddened, and MJ makes a small sound of surprise. Peter keeps his gaze fixed on Ned's gross, celery sandwich, considering if the grossness could have permeated the PB&J he brings for Peter everyday, when—

“You know what? I'm too riled up, now. No practice today. I'm too angry to properly use my intelligence. Thanks, Leeds.”

There's a thump, a swish, and then constant taps of MJ's sneakers as she walks away. Peter is gawking in her wake, and Ned is shaking his head. “Dude, did you—”

“She totally did that for me, didn't she?”

“Oh, my God, Peter, is this some parallel universe?”

Peter has no freaking clue.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter's half done! Promise I won't disappear again, sorry for this delay. ❤


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! This is a long one. 
> 
> Thank you, dear readers, for all the bookmarks and kudos and the encouraging comments! ❤

“Harry Potter marathon at yours, later, then?” Ned's mumble fills the mask, and Peter grumbles at Karen to lower the volume.

“Oops, I'm sorry, Peter,” the robotic voice retorts. “Volume lowered to seventy percent.”

“Whoa—who was that? Are— _oh my God_ , are you with _MJ_?”

“You're too sleepy to function, Ned,” Peter laughs. “That was just Karen.”

“Who? Kar— _oh_. Wait, are you patrolling, right now? Dude it's _six am_! School's in two hours!”

Peter breathes out. “No, I'm not patrolling. Just reviewing the recordings from past few nights.”

Aunt May is moving around in the living room, and she'll probably yell at Peter if she finds him awake so early after he'd slept at two, last night, for the third consecutive night, this week. Peter really needs to end the call before that happens. But Ned's been unwell, and Peter needed to know if he'd come to school, today.

“It's too early, Pete. You really are overworking yourself.” Ned sounds much more awake now.

Peter softly smiles at Ned's concern. Ned Leeds really _is_ the best bro. “It's okay, Ned. I took a nap after school, yesterday.”

“So… are you gonna go to decathlon practice, today?”

Peter hums. “I'm planning to.”

“Yeah you better.” There's way too much humor in Ned's voice, and Peter mentally braces himself, because he's ninety-three percent sure he isn't gonna like what Ned's about to say next. “After all, there's only so many excuses MJ can make before exposing her concern for you, right?”

Peter groans aloud. “I'll see you later, Ned. Take your medicines, _bye_.”

“What's all the ruckus? Peter, are you— _Peter_!”

Peter whips the mask off, pursed lips and guilty eyes trained at Aunt May's irritated face in the doorway. “Good morning, May.”

“Peter it's barely _six thirty_! Why are you up so early, with—with the mask and—and—” She cuts herself off, making vague gestures that go over Peter's head.

“Ned's not coming to school, today, he's caught a stomach bug.” He hopes to distract her, and mentally does a victory dance when her eyes immediately widen.

“What? Oh, poor boy. Why, did he eat something odd?”

Peter shrugs a shoulder. “A celery sandwich?”

Aunt May rolls her eyes fondly. “Only Ned Leeds would catch a stomach infection from healthy food.”

She silently retreats from the room, seemingly forgetting about the reason why she'd barged in, in the first place.

Grinning to himself, Peter decides to catch a small nap before he has to get ready for school.

* * *

MJ is missing from homeroom.

Peter wonders why he notices.

* * *

MJ had a detention during homeroom.

Peter chokes on air when she casually drops the fact on him when he's fiddling with the things in his locker. He laughs, but it's forced.

It's just so damn awkward between them, without Ned to—well, _make things more awkward_? Yes, because that is exactly what Ned does. But still. Ned is, like. A _buffer_. Peter feels so much more comfortable when Ned's by his side during Peter's interactions with MJ. Ned seems to always say the right thing and that somehow prevents Peter from turning into the nervous wreck he is, right now.

Peter's brain turns into a bigger mess when MJ wordlessly walks with him to chemistry.

He clears his throat seven times in the two minutes and eleven seconds it takes for them to get to class.

He doesn't know what to say to her. And, unsurprisingly, the _humongously_ awkward silence doesn't seem to faze MJ even a miniscule bit.

Peter almost walks into the wall instead of the doorway.

* * *

MJ is missing from lunchroom, too.

Peter believes he notices because she's been dropping by his and Ned's lunch table every single day, for more than a year now, and he's just gotten used to it.

* * *

Betty Brant gets to MJ before MJ gets to the podium for AcaDec practice. Peter observes the exchange with interest.

“Hey! Are you okay, MJ?”

MJ looks confused for a moment, eyelids fluttering for a second, and then her eyebrows slowly climb up her forehead. “Yeah, I'm good, Betty. Thanks?”

Betty looks flustered at first, but then gives MJ a huge smile. “No, I meant your _health_. You were unwell yesterday, right? That's why you cancelled practice? Mister Harrington told us you'd come down with sore throat. Which made me think…you could've given _me_ the flashcards! I would've been more than happy to help!”

MJ is grimacing and trying to lean away from Betty's grasp on her upper arms by the time the blonde stops talking.

Peter's eyebrows are raised.

She actually gave an excuse of being unwell, yesterday?

His heart thunders loudly in his ears, and he almost misses it when MJ dramatically coughs and hands Betty the flashcards, claiming that she's unwell today, too, and needs to rest her throat.

Embarrassingly, his cheeks start to feel warm when she walks toward the seats. Peter trains his gaze on the pencil in his hand, shoulders slightly relaxing when she sits two rows away.

Peter glances at her after counting to ten in his head, as slowly as he can.

She's bent over her sketchbook. Peter looks around the room, wondering whom she could be finding to be in crisis at the moment.

When he looks back, she's holding her sketch up for him to see. His eyes widen, sweat suddenly beading on his forehead. He thought he was being sneaky! Was she observing him all this time?

But she gives him a flat stare, obviously expecting him to stop gaping at her face and look at the sketch she's showing him. He gulps.

Peter squints at the paper, willing himself to actually see and interpret the person she's portrayed to be in crisis today.

He can barely contain the laughter that threatens to burst out of him.

She's drawn herself.

* * *

“Hey, Parker!”

Peter's eyes widen and he freezes on his way out of the parking lot. He stays jammed in his place, not even able to turn around to look at MJ even when he can hear her walking up to him and can sense her presence eight inches from his back.

“Parker?”

He springs into motion, twisting in place to look at the girl with his eyes still blown wide. “Hi.”

MJ's look of confusion melts into amusement. “Hello. Are you…okay?”

Peter nods about thirty-eight times in ten seconds, and then tries to smile. “Ye–yeah. Why?”

“Well…for one, you looked petrified. And Leeds was missing today, too, so you could be having a panic attack and no one would know.” She squints at him in that characteristic way of hers. “Which brings me to the reason I stopped you. Where's Leeds?”

Peter purses his lips, jutting a thumb in the direction that holds the way to Ned's house. “Home. He's, uh, unwell.”

“Huh.” MJ nods, still looking at Peter as if he's a specimen under the slide on a microscope. “Can I have his number? There's something I wanted to talk to him about.”

Peter chokes on an inhale. “What?”

“Leeds’ phone number?”

Peter nods eleven times in three seconds, this time, and extracts his phone to quickly pull Ned's contact up. “There.”

MJ glances at it, quickly looking back and forth between his device and her own to copy the digits down. “Thanks.” She nods, still typing on her phone, and then, without a word, walks off.

Peter is left with his mouth dropped open, his hand still holding his phone, face up.

“Penis! Get outta the way!”

Peter jumps to a side as Flash Thompson whips out of the school in his new car.

His uneven breathing takes a while to settle, and more than just adrenaline is behind it.

* * *

Ned noisily sips on the orange juice that May had handed him with a strict glare. “Okay, question: if your guy in the chair's been attending decathlon practices, or skipping school, or, generally, _not being the guy in the chair_ , where're you getting all the intel from?”

“I put trackers on them at the party. That's how I found out that they actually _were_ operating an illegal drug business,” Peter responds, eyes stuck on Neville Longbottom's quivering form as his Boggart takes the shape of Snape.

“Stark's high-tech, undetectable trackers?”

“The one and only.”

Ned hums. “Is everything okay, Peter? You look too wound up to just be worried about some drug dealing idiots.”

Peter's heart warms. What did he ever do to earn a best friend like Ned Leeds? He bites his lip, wondering if he should tell Ned about the exchanges he had with MJ, today. Especially the one that happened after school.

But then he stops, realising that if MJ actually had contacted Ned, he would've questioned where she got his number, and either he would've drawn the obvious conclusion, or MJ would've told him.

“Nope, I'm good. Just a bit sleep deprived, I guess.”

Remus Lupin looks more concerned than Harry at the thought of revealing Harry's Boggart. Peter snatches Ned's juice out of his hands and takes a sip.

“So…”

Peter looks at Ned. “So?”

Ned wiggles his eyebrows, a lewd grin sneaking on his face. “Did you slide your own number in with mine?”

Peter groans loudly, grabbing a throw pillow to stuff his face into. “No, Ned. Why–why would I do that? I don't need to. Or, y'know. Want to. Or…you know. Why would I do that? Why would I _do that?_ You know MJ would kill me without even letting me explain.”

“Explain, huh? And what would you say in explanation?”

Okay, this is it. Ned's been having way too many laughs at his expense. “Well, maybe you could help me. You know, when you decide upon what explanation you'd give _Betty_ when she asks how her celery sandwich worked for you.”

Ned's face instantly turns, and he pinches his lips in a grimace. “Peter, _no_. This is not fair. That—that _thing_ wasn't even _food_!”

Peter chuckles to himself, patting Ned's shoulder the way Ned had done his, yesterday, and offers him a bite of the takeout larb he's munching on. Ned makes a face, quickly shaking his head.

“I've spent way too many hours on the toilet today, dude. I'm good with my liquid diet.”

Peter hums in response, his mind unwittingly going back to the one question that'd propped up in his head this afternoon—the one that he pushes to the back of his mind every time it comes up. But it comes up, again.

He sighs, loudly, aware that he's moving too much on the couch, but not caring. Remus Lupin clears the classroom after Harry's Boggart incident.

“Don't you wanna know why she needed my number, at least?”

Peter chokes on his bite of the meat salad, coughing monstrously. Ned literally pours his orange juice down Peter's throat to clear it.

“ _What the hell, man?_ ” Ned bleats, all high-pitched and exclamatory, and looks at Peter as if he's grown another head.

Peter winces. Well, that was dramatic. But he was caught off-guard by Ned saying the exact words Peter had been trying to avoid! “No–nothing. You just startled me.”

“Startled you? Peter, we've watched these movies fifty thousand times, you know each scene word by word, expression by expression. What were you so immersed in?”

“Uh, thinking?”

“Thinking. About _what_?”

“The, uh, suspected-drug-dealers?”

“Are you asking me?”

“No?”

“Peter!”

“Okay, fine, _fine_ ,” Peter exhales, making a placating gesture with his hand. “Fine, yes. Yes, I really wanna know why MJ needed your number. She said she wanted to ask you something. What was it?”

Bed gives him a downright creepy smirk. “You won't believe it.”

“What? Why?”

“It was about _you_.”

Press eyes widen, and admittedly, heartbeat kinda jumps. But…maybe he's startled again, right? Yep, definitely. “Me?” He forces a short laugh. “What about—”

“The _other_ you, Peter.” Ned rolls his eyes when Peter's jaw drops open. “She wanted to know some stuff about Spider-Man.”

Peter roughly swallows, nervousness and another—unknown but kinda unpleasant—emotion churning in his stomach. “Oh? What, exactly? And—and what did you say?”

Ned shrugs a careless shoulder. “Point blank asked me if the boy was from our school. I obviously didn't tell her.”

Peter nods, conflicted about how to feel. “And she let it go?”

“Well, obviously not. She won't be MJ if she just _let it go_.” They both chuckle. “She said she knows you're a fan and that you probably even know the guy. But she feels like you won't tell her. She wanted to bribe me into getting the name from you and giving it to her.”

Peter is too stunned to react. This is way too much, way too fast. “Bribe? Wait, she thinks—wait, wait, _me?_ But I would—why won't I tell— _what_?”

“She offered me a hamburger. But, thanks to my upset stomach, I easily refused her.”

“Well, thanks to that,” Peter agrees, breathing uneven. “But… she actually believes I know Spider-Man?”

“Peter, why do you sound so shocked? It's not a big deal. You know, because you _are_ Spider-Man?”

Peter clicks his tongue, eyes shutting as his head thumps against the back if the couch. “Please tell me she isn't investigating it. Because if MJ's actually trying to figure out who Spider-Man is, MJ _will_ find out who Spider-Man is.”

Ned shakes his head. “I don't know, man. She might be. But she seemed more inquisitive than suspicious, to be honest. Like…she’s an admirer of Spider-Man and doesn't care who he is, and not someone that simply suspects who he could be.”

Peters shoulders relax at that. “Really?”

“From what I could tell, yeah.”

Peter grins, slowly, thoughtfully looking into his bowl of larb. “So, she's a _fan_ , huh? You think I should pay her a visit, then?”

Ned is giving him a disapproving look. “No, Pete. Spider-Man's not a party trick, remember? And, also. MJ's a friend. Do you really wanna trick her?”

Peter exhales, glumly nodding because Ned's right. “No, you're right. It's just…ah, surprising. And kinda makes me feel like I have something over MJ.”

Ned smiks at him. “Come to think of it, that's exactly how _I_ felt, too.”

The two boys laugh at the absurd revelation, proceeding to spend the rest of the evening finishing the next part of Harry Potter before sleep weighs them down in the middle of the fifth one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is 50% crack, oml XD should I just add that in the tags?
> 
> Drop a word! ❤


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Grandma passed away, on the 7th. Pray for her soul, y'all.
> 
> Chapter Warning: Secondhand embarrassment in BULK.

Ned's not coming to school today, too, and Peter doesn't know whether to mentally prepare for a boring, best-friend-less day ahead of him or to anticipate interesting interactions with MJ, the kind he'd had yesterday.

MJ's missing from homeroom again, though, and Peter makes a mental note of asking her what, exactly, did she do to land herself an early morning detention for more than one day.

* * *

Peter's day has gone beyond boring, so far, so much so that he's decided to camp on a bench in the school playground during lunch hour.

He's got his laptop propped up next to him, and is munching on some m&ms that he got out of the school's vending machine. He really needs to get address of a new deli. Or Delmar needs to finish the renovations at his deli soon. Peter has got to stop depending on Ned for his lunch, everyday.

“Hey, loser.”

Peter instinctively shuts his laptop—he was watching a “How Spider-Man Could Be Sneakier” video from that almost-favorite youtuber of his, that makes theory videos and analyses and suggestions and really in-depth scientific explanations on Spider-Man's…well, Spider-Man-ness—and spills a few of his m&ms on the grass covered ground around his bench, by the time MJ is close enough for her shadow to fall upon him.

He squints against the sun, momentarily admiring how her hair looks like a halo when she's blocking the sun like this, and then gives her a half-assed, middle school wave. “Hi.”

He cannot see what expressions she's got on—but hopes that she doesn't cringe as much he does—until she settles on the bench on his other side. He tries to look at her face to actually perceive her reaction to his greeting, but—

But suddenly, sitting this close to him, she's way too close—he can catch the strawberry scent of her shampoo wafting up to him, _enveloping him_ , with _every breath_ , her own breathing is literally _all_ he can hear, the side of her thigh's almost ghosting over the side of his, and it's—

 _Gah_ , it's just too much MJ for him to handle, okay?

He feels like he's drowning in her essence, and when she gives him a tiny, cute smile, Peter can't take it anymore and jumps off the bench, hopping up to stand five feet away from it.

MJ looks bewildered. “What…?”

Peter looks around. His eyes widen. “M&Ms!”

She squints. “ _What_?”

“M&Ms. My m&ms. They—” He gesticulates widely, and then drops to his knees in front of the bench, trying to look for the darn coated candies that he'd accidentally spilled and that just _might_ save him from this nightmarish embarrassment he's unflinchingly causing himself and her.

“You really _are_ a loser,” MJ mumbles from above him, pulling her sling bag onto her lap when he looks at her in surprise, and he almost jolts back when she produces a wrapped burrito from it. “Whoa, it's not a weapon, just food! Calm down, dude.”

Peter grimaces. Why is he like this? “Yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, his stomach grumbling at the sight and smell of real food.

MJ slowly unwraps the burrito, narrowed eyes looking at him. “Is the m&ms your lunch for the day?”

Peter stands up with a fist full of said candies and, scratching the back of his head as he gives a tiny shrug, he pops a few in his mouth. “More or less, yeah.”

MJ stops mid unwrapping, and forwards the burrito to him.

Peter shakes his head, wide eyes swinging back and forth between her blank face and the offered food. “No, no,” he forces a chuckle. “That's your lunch, MJ, I'm good—”

“But I'm better,” she interrupts, going back into her back to pull out another burrito. “I got three more after this.”

“Wow. Aren't these, like, seven dollars?”

“I have a friend at Chipotle.”

Peter feels like that's not it, and she just comes from an incredibly rich family—the way he's always suspected—and carrying thirty-five dollars worth of food around at school, and giving it away to losers like him for free isn't causing a dent in her pocket money.

“Well?” MJ shakes the burrito temptingly in front of his face, and Peter yields.

They don't speak a word while they eat, mostly because Peter doesn't, _really, really doesn't_ , wanna embarrass himself in front of her more than he already has, which is a _humongous_ lot in itself.

“I gotta go. Detention.” MJ announces as the hour bell rings.

Peter clears his throat, forcing a laugh. “Oh? What did you even do to get into so many detentions _during_ school hours?”

MJ's cheeks flush as she collects the wrappers and stuffs them in her bag. “Uh, I—I was on my computer.” She flashes him a smile— _so adorable, shit shit shit_ —and turns on her heels to jaywalk out of there.

Peter finds himself smiling fondly, and allows himself to relish it for a few moments without pondering the _why_ s and _how_ s.

* * *

Peter doesn't know what protocol he's supposed to follow in regards to his behavior with MJ after she literally fed him, this morning, when they all assemble for the decathlon practice.

MJ's taking the podium today, though, so at least he doesn't have to worry about _talking_ to her.

But then he thinks of all the interactions they've had without actually talking, and gets nervous all over again.

“Organic chemistry!” Abraham yells from two seats behind Peter.

MJ looks at the boy down her nose from across the hall. “Do you promise to stay on topic?”

“I love organic chemistry, so, hell yes!”

Peter chuckles at the boy's enthusiasm, and shares a knowing look with Betty and Murphy, because _when_ has Abe ever stayed on topic?

“Peter?”

Peter jolts from his seat, eyes impossibly wide, because, one: MJ's addressing him from the podium, and two, _oh God, two:_ because she actually called him by his _first name_ , goddarnit, what the heck, _what is breathing_? Peter wishes he could remember, because he has to violently cough to fill up his lungs again.

“Y–yes?” He stands up, stiff and awkward, and eyes bulging like a frog's.

“Mind taking the flashcards?”

She seems to be all business, face blank, voice level, eyes narrowed like always, posture proper, and Peter—

Well, Peter kind of deflates. Because he'd somehow thought… What, exactly? That she'd treat him like he was her best friend, now? And _why_? Because she gave him one of her four extra burritos when she saw him munching on candies for lunch?

God, that sounds so stupid when strung up together in a sentence.

But didn't she especially come to sit with him when he wasn't in the cafeteria? That's gotta count for something, right?

Suddenly, like getting a punch to his gut, Peter flashes back to what Ned told him, the previous night.

_“She said she knows you're a fan and that you probably even know the guy. But she feels like you won't tell her.”_

She thinks he knows Spider-Man. And she acknowledges the fact. _And_ she admires Spider-Man.

_“She wanted to bribe me into getting the name from you and giving it to her.”_

What if she was trying to bribe _him_ , this time?

The taste in Peter's mouth is acerbic.

Despite how immature and middle school all of it sounds, it still makes Peter feel kind of deceived and foolish.

He shakes his head, boldly. “I'm sorry, MJ. Don't feel so well. Probably something I ate.”

Her eyes flash in acknowledgement of what he's pointing at, and he sees a wave of confusion pass over her face before she covers it with a roll of her eyes. “Oh? M&Ms for lunch didn't suit you, or what? That's all you ate, right?”

Peter doesn't like how they're jabbing at each other passive aggressively. This isn't them. This isn't how MJ's with him. Everyone else, yes, but not _him_.

And before the dark side of his brain can over analyse it, he reminds himself that it's been that way since before Spider-Man's existence. MJ's always snarky and rude, but always up-front.

Peter has half a mind to storm out of there, making a dramatic exit to, perhaps, make some sort of point to MJ—he doesn't even know what it would even _mean_ , exactly—but he refrains and breathes out.

 _Small things become big things when we let them_ , he thinks to himself, and steps out of his seat.

“On second thought, I'm not that unwell,” he declares, giving MJ room to move off the podium, her calculative gaze fixed on his face. “May I?” he asks, ponting at the flashcards in her hand.

She wordlessly puts them in his outstretched palm, and gives him a small nod.

Peter exhales, grinning back at her, brightly.

He takes pride in the pink tinging her cheeks as she walks up to one of the seats, reassured that this, her cute responses to his sudden smiles and the pretty, _pretty_ blush on her cheeks, has nothing to do with Spider-Man.

* * *

“Dude, I need you!”

“Whoa, hello there, Peter! Yes, I'm doing so much better, _thank you for asking_.”

Peter groans, hopping on a foot as he tries to pull his suit up, hurriedly. “No time for that, Ned! Remember that update we made to that map-tracking-app thing on your computer? Pull it up. I'm sending you some coordinates, locate them and zoom in. Keep an eye on the guys you find. I'm gonna get there in less that five.”

Peter exhales heavily when he succeeds in securing the suit in record time of eleven seconds. But then he frowns. Ned is strangely silent on the line.

“Uh, Ned? You there, buddy?”

“ _Oh, my God, Peter, this is so beyond exciting!”_ Ned suddenly shrieks. “ _This is what I was waiting for! A real guy in the chair job, GAAAAH! Oh, my God, oh, my God! Peter, this is, AAAA_ —

“Karen! _Volume_!”

* * *

When the suspected-drug-dealers met up at four of the evening, Peter had found himself ninety-six percent sure that a deal was gonna go down.

But, what actually happened?

They played freaking poker, again!

He's starting to think that maybe he should look at their card games more vigilantly, because if that's all they do, maybe there's more to it and Peter's not looking closely enough.

But—

Okay, yeah, that's bullshit. He's just trying to placate himself, because this is super annoying. And his best friend's not helping.

“You can stop laughing anytime now, Ned.” Peter rolls his eyes at his best friend's laughter that's been droning into his ears, through the mask, for more than half a minute, now.

Ned wheezes for a few prolonged seconds before coming to a coughing stop. “I think I get why you hate these guys so much, now.”

Peter grumpily exhales. “I didn't even wash my face after getting back from school, and this is what all the rushing around gets me to.”

“Hey, it's okay, man. Superheroes have their bad days, too. You're allowed to mess up. Especially if it doesn't harm anyone.”

Peter smiles. “Thanks, man.”

“Where are you, anyway? Come over. I wanna know what happened at school, today.”

Peter looks at the setting sun behind the Walmart, and gets up from his perch at the edge of the bank building's roof.

He doesn't really wanna tell Ned about what happened at lunch, today, because he doesn't wanna analyse it. Or, even worse, what happened but not actually happened during practice.

But, at the same time, some part of him that has been oddly giddy about the entire lunch incident and MJ's blush when she left the podium for him, makes him wanna detail everything out to Ned and pick it apart to decode every gesture, every sigh and every single smile that MJ graced Peter with, and plan out how Peter's supposed to behave around her, because he somehow feels like he's doing something wrong when he interacts with her, these days.

Peter doesn't dare ponder the meaning of _these_ thoughts.

So, with a tiny smile and a sigh, Peter decides to let the first part win. “Nothing really happened, man. But I'll still come over. For food and company?”

“Food and company, man!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. I keep trying to put more story in every chapter, but the characters are just so much full of shit that they keep jabbering and increase my word count. Hence, the total no. of chapters has been moved up to 10. At least for now.
> 
> *sigh*
> 
> Anyway!
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE SUPPORT, YOU GUYS! I LOVE Y'ALL! ❤ UwU

Peter hasn't had a relaxing day with May in forever. Today, he has every intention to.

Well, that is until Mister Stark calls him in for a lunch meeting to discuss some upgrades he wants to give Peter's suit.

It's more lunch than meeting, but Peter knows that that's all Miss Potts’ doing when he notices how she keeps giving her fiancé strict looks every time Mister Stark drops his fork to get too much into the discussion of this software update he's designed for Peter's suit's scanner.

Peter is more than a bit stiff, but that has nothing to do with the food or the discussion, but everything to do with company.

And, no, he's met Miss Potts multiple times by now, so it isn't a big deal. Also, she's extremely sweet and warm and welcoming and treats Peter so much better than Mister Stark does—which is saying something, because he's heard from the grapevine that Mister Stark's never been as caring to another living been, as he is to Peter.

But, meeting Colonel Rhodes always has him almost pissing his pants.

The man just has this all-knowing aura around him, that Peter feels like he can pull out Peter's deepest, darkest secrets merely by looking into his eyes. He makes Peter wanna confess to things he hasn't even done, when the Colonel looks at him long enough. Peter doesn't usually get uncomfortable around people. But Colonel Rhodes makes him wanna fold into himself to get out of the older man's line of sight.

Somewhere between the chicken pot pie and the impossibly delicious chocolate mousse cake, Mister Stark finds the time to grumble about Black Widow and her “annoying loyalty and dedication” towards “he who shall not be named” and despite Colonel Rhodes’ scary threats, Miss Potts has to take matters in her own hands when he doesn't calm down. She pours him a glass of wine—at two pm, _wow_ —and sends him off to his lab, shooing Peter after him with a five seconds’ gap.

Peter's still chowing down the mousse cake when Mister Stark gets to work and uploads all the stuff he talked about into the Spidey suit.

“So, how's the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man act going for you, kid?”

Peter purses his lips into a smile. “Surprisingly great, Mister Stark.”

Mister Stark raises an eyebrow behind his glasses. “Why surprisingly?”

Peter gives a nervous chuckle. “I feared I'd come to eventually regret it. Y'know, with nothing big happening and everything. But I'm actually really satisfied with keeping it that way.”

Mister Stark gives him a half smile—a rare, _rare_ occurrence—and Peter stares with widened eyes, locking the expression away in his memory, to bring it back to encourage himself, later, whenever he'd need it.

“You really are a good kid, Peter,” he mumbles almost to himself, before clearing his throat and straightening. “And thanks for coming today. Pepper had been bugging me for _months_.” Mister Stark unplugs the connections and tosses the suit at Peter. “All done. For the most part, you won't even need ground control to help you, now.” Mister Stark winks at him.

Peter gulps, aware that he's referring to Ned and his guy in the chair position. Just how much does this man _know_? Even after Peter's removed the trackers from the suit.

That gives him a pause.

“Uh, Mister Stark… you haven't put trackers back in there, have you?”

“What’s the point when I know you'd remove them again?”

Peter triumphantly grins, following Mister Stark out of the lab with his upgraded suit in hands.

* * *

Peter spends an awfully morose Saturday evening, hanging upside down in his room as he tries to get the functions graphs in his head.

The evening blends into night, and the night into morning, but there's no alert from his suit regarding the suspected-drug-dealers.

He feels _so_ restless, it's almost painful.

“Anything, Karen?”

“Another card game where all four of them are cheating, Peter.”

Peter groans.

Well, at least he doesn't have to physically sit outside their meeting places on the lookout, thanks to the suit's upgraded scanners. But it's still annoying, beyond belief, how the stupid morons let another day go by without making a move.

Peter wonders if he actually _prefers_ physically sitting out instead of playing this waiting game.

Peter goes to sleep at five am.

* * *

“I’m going to go pick up some groceries, Pete. Wake up, now. Sleep again if you want, but eat something, first.”

Peter's eyes crack open and land on his bedside clock. It's past two o'clock in the afternoon.

Yawning, he sits up. “When will you get back?”

May walks around his room, picking up the stray pieces of clothing he's thrown every which way. “Two hours tops?”

Peter nods. “We still got some of last night's mac and cheese left?”

May clicks her tongue, folding one of his shirts. “Can you ever eat actual breakfast foods for breakfast?”

Peter sleepily chuckles, and rolls out of bed. “I just don't like cereal.”

May exhales, voice carrying after him as he pads into the bathroom. “Oh, I know that, honey. Fine, you eat whatever you want. It's too late for a breakfast, anyway. I'll see you later, kid, take care of yourself, okay? And if you head out, the key—”

“Is to be placed under the right, lower corner of the welcome mat, _I know_ , May,” Peter interrupts with a huff, splashing water on his face. “But you know I'll probably use the window.”

“Of course. I'll see you later, love you!”

“Love you, too!” Peter yells back, sticking his toothbrush in his mouth, and walks back into his room to check his phone.

Opening Ned's thread of messages, he whines in irritation. After leaving a couple of texts asking about his whereabouts, near noon, Ned's involved himself in a Mario Kart Wii marathon at Abe's. _The traitor_.

Resigned, Peter decides the best way to kill time would be to suit up and take a tour around the city after he freshens up.

* * *

It's nearing four of the evening, and Peter's terribly bored and more than a little exhausted.

He swings across a mildly familiar looking building, and comes to rest on its top. It turns out to be an apartment complex, and Peter does a double take when he looks around the roof.

It looks unnervingly familiar. He's still in the process of trying to pinpoint how and what, exactly, he finds so familiar about it, when the door to the roof flies open.

Peter swears under his breath. It has hardly been _ten seconds_ since he got here, and someone's discovered him. He contemplates swinging off, but a feminine grumbling stops him dead in his tracks.

He lifts his head, slowly, to look at the girl who came in like a storm brewing, who hasn't yet noticed him, and audibly gasps.

MJ looks up at him through a curtain of hair, dressed in an oversized, beige hoodie, tiny neon blue shorts, and— _oh gosh dang it_ —a pair of what looks like Mojo Jojo house slippers.

Her eyes jump wide, and it takes Peter a moment to be reminded of the fact that she's looking at _Spider-Man_ , and not him. Well, him, but, you know, the _other him_ , that is cooler—no, wait, that's self-depreciating, because Peter's pretty cool, too. Which makes perfect sense because he _is_ Spider-Man, and so, if he, as Peter, wasn't cool in the first place, there was no way Spider-Man would have turned out as cool as he is.

Oh, God.

What the _hell_ is _wrong_ with his _brain_?!

“Wow.” MJ blinks. “Spider-Man.”

“The one and only,” Peter responds, trying to cloak his voice as well as he can, because Karen does a horrible job of it. He just wishes he had more of his senses about him, at the moment. “Hello. Are you okay, miss? You look…like you've been running?”

And she does. She's breathing heavily, and a few beads of sweat are dribbling down her temples.

“Oh?” MJ blinks again. And then her eyebrows shoot up. “ _Oh_! Oh, uh, yes. I was. Kinda. Broke my mom's expensive perfume bottle. Had to run before she killed me.”

Peter is frozen in time, unaware how to react.

This is MJ?

This is _MJ_?

 _This_ is MJ?

This _is_ MJ?

Okay, yeah, none of it makes sense.

He clears his throat. “Uh. Oh?”

 _Real eloquent, Peter Parker, you're a genius!_ He mentally berates himself.

MJ, though, finds the answer acceptable, and with obviously tentative but definitely real steps, she walks up to him. And extends a hand towards Peter.

She's looking at him through a layer of curls hanging over her eyes, and Peter just _cannot_ freaking accept the fact that this cute, bashful girl is MJ— _the MJ_ that murders people with a single look.

Gulping back his bafflement and nerves, Peter engulfs her small hand into his gloved, larger one.

Her lips quirk up, and an unreadable look momentarily passes over her face, but then she rolls her shoulders back and gives their hands a firm shake. “Hello, Spider-Man. I'm Michelle.”

Peter almost does a double take, but then recalls that only her _friends_ are supposed to call her MJ. And he's lucky to have gotten to that level of intimacy with her as Peter Parker. As Spider-Man, though, he probably has to commit a heroic act to impress her, or something, before she trusts him enough to—

“But you can call me MJ.” She raises her eyebrows at him.

Peter chokes on air, sputtering out a startled cough.

MJ immediately lets go of his hand, looking at him a frown. “Uh, you okay?”

“It's just— _MJ_? Like, Michael Jackson?” he dishes out reflexively, chuckling nervously as he tries the lamest remark to ever, _ever_ be associated with her name, in order to cover up for the actual reason of his surprise.

He's cringing behind the mask, but at least her gaze isn't suspicious anymore, just pissed.

Wait, _pissed_? Oh, crap.

“Well, _no_. Obviously. But if you'd like to have a few _laughs_ at the expense of my _name_ , Spider-Man? Be my guest.” MJ's brows have completely slanted over her eyes, turning them into half shuttered orbs that shoot laser beams straight at him.

Peter actually flinches. “I—I didn't mean it like that, I just—”

MJ suddenly waves a hand in resignation, cutting him off with a sigh. “No, it's fine, I know. I'm just in a bad mood, I guess.”

She walks towards the edge of the roof, and Peter follows.

“Say, Spider-Man, how come you—wait. Can you give me a name?”

Peter freezes, midstep.

“Like, something to address you by? Spider-Man's kind of a mouthful.”

Peter gives another nervous laugh. “Um, one of—one of my friends calls my suit the Spidey suit.” Tony Stark would probably smack Peter for calling him a friend of his. “So, uh, I guess you could call me Spidey?”

MJ squints up at him as Peter makes to sit next to her. “Spidey, huh? Kay. Spidey's good. So, as I was about to ask, how did you end up hanging around my rooftop, Spidey?”

Peter shrugs a shoulder. “I was just passing by, bored out of my mind. This rooftop looked oddly familiar to me. I couldn't really grasp as in why that was so. So I just tried looking around to see if I could find the reason why.”

MJ looks fidgety, all of a sudden. She clears her throat. “So, did you—did you find it?”

Peter looks at her. Why is she being awkward, all of a sudden. Does she happen to _know_ something about it? Peter slowly shakes his head. “No, unfortunately. I probably pass this roof by a lot, and it's just, maybe, stuck to my mind, or something.”

MJ hums in response, looking straight ahead.

Peter scans her side profile, unable to connect the image of this cuddly, soft looking MJ to the sharp edged girl he encounters on a daily basis in school.

But, with a startling realisation, Peter finds himself liking the company of both.

His eyes slowly widen in incredulity.

 _Dang it_ , does he…?

Oh. Oh, no.

* * *

“May I know what you were up to, Mister Spider-Man?” Aunt May's taunting query carries all the way from the living room, as Peter drops into his room through the window. “It's past eight of the night, and you're returning _after I rang_.”

He gives a deep groan of irritation in response, and proceeds to strip out of his suit before slumping into his bed, face down.

“Peter? It's you, right? Otherwise someone's broken in, and I'd have to call—oh. Hey, put some clothes on, honey. It's cold outside.” May walks into his room, walking up to shut the window, and tosses a t-shirt and pajama pants over his boxers clad self.

Peter groans into the bed covers, again.

“Pete? Kid, are you okay?” May's hand brushes the hair on the back of his head.

Peter turns his face sideways to look at her. “I was with a friend, May.”

May's eyebrows raise, expectantly. “And? What's all the moaning about, honey?” A smirk works over her face. “Was it, by any chance, a _female_ friend, Pete?”

Peter clicks his tongue, shutting his eyes. “I’m doomed, May,” he whines.

May releases a loud sigh. “Do I pretend to understand what that means? Or would you like to talk to Ned?”

“Can I just sleep?”

“Absolutely not. Go shower and change, we're watching The Last Jedi together. I've ordered some pad Thai, it'll be here any minute.”

Peter smiles up at his aunt, opening his eyes a fraction. “I love you, May. You're the best.”

“I know, kid. Love you, too.” She gets up, smiling, but pauses at the door to squint at Peter over her shoulder. “We're also going to have a chat about this _friend_ you saw today, though.”

When she walks out, Peter smacks a palm over his face in agony. “Maybe I don't love you so much, after all, you nosy woman.”

“ _I heard that!_ ”

* * *

Later, that night, after Peter's dodged multiple of May's attempts at trying to dig out what friend Peter was with and if it was a female friend—seriously, May tried to interrogate him way too fiercely, it wasn't even funny anymore—he sulks in a corner of his bed, his phone in hand.

 _**ned** _  
_**dude** _  
_**you there?** _

_It's almost midnight, man  
And tomorrow's Monday_

**_listen_ **  
**_it's kinda important_ **  
**_cause, you were right_ **  
**_i was being weird_ **  
**_i think i have a crush on mj_ **

_DUH?!_  
_But also_  
_YAY FINALLY!!!!_  
_Are you gonna tell her?_  
_Invite me to your wedding, okay_  
_And also_  
_I call best man!_

 **_you're so freaking extra, ned_ **  
**_i'll talk to you tomorrow_ **  
**_good night_ **

_Rude_

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all, I'm alive! It's been three months, oh sheet!
> 
> How've you guys been? I'm... I just... *sigh*
> 
> Had gone into a shock after Endgame. Haven't had the heart to watch Far From Home, yet. I still cry at night when I think about the Soul Stone and the final snap. . .
> 
> :'(

Peter hates Mondays. Although he doesn't really have concrete reasons to, every week, he still hates them.

But, like, it's almost like a convention to the mankind, hating Mondays, reason or not. Right? So, Peter solemnly follows it, too.

But today, this specific Monday, Peter actually has everything in life going horribly wrong, so far, and so he hates the day with more resolution than ever.

Ned Leeds is generally a Good Bro. Really very genuinely loving, caring and supportive, and the best best friend Peter could ever ask for. But Peter is convinced he made a terrible mistake telling his Good Bro about his admitted crush, last night. As well as telling him about accidentally meeting MJ as Spider-Man. Because Ned Leeds hasn't shut up about either of the two confessions for, like, five hours, now.

Then there's also Flash Thompson who's added to Peter's misery by tripping him not once, not twice, but _three times_ , in the hallways, like a darning middle schooler, while Peter was busy either zoning out of Ned's rants about how MJ stared at him during math—which: _impossible_ , because Peter sits three seats _behind_ MJ in math—or looking for said girl in the crowd, because she seems to be lost in a world of her own today and hasn't really been seen interacting with anyone.

Which brings him to the third bad thing about today: MJ's attitude. Peter really shouldn't have expected her to suddenly act too affectionate with him just because he now accepts that he likes her, or because he talked to her about fifty thousand different things, just yesterday. The latter doesn't even _make sense_ , because she didn't even _know_ she was talking to Peter! But he's still bummed when MJ doesn't spare him any attention and behaves like her usual, snarky self, flipping birds right and left and killing people with mere looks.

By the time they moved into AcaDec practice, Peter felt like he was back in his sophomore year, only worse, because he doesn't even have Liz to fawn over anymore.

They're already deep into GK questions when a paper ball lands on Peter's table.

**_you've stared at your table for 20 minutes now, all good?_ **

Peter flashes Ned a small smile, which the boy doesn't return. Ned's gaze, instead, spans over at MJ before meeting Peter's again, and a layer of suspicion envelops his expressions.

Peter sighs, shaking his head. He's in an extremely awkward phase, right now, with no idea how to even approach MJ, now that he knows he likes her. He doesn't wanna continue being the somewhat-good-friends they were, till yesterday, but he also doesn't know how to be anything but that with her.

Peter realizes he hasn't been participating in the questioning, at all, today, and the fact that MJ hasn't said a word about it—not even a snarky comment—bugs him. But what bugs him more is the way she seems to really not fully be in the present. She seems very obviously lost in thoughts, in her own mind, and Peter cannot handle not knowing what's gotten her like this.

A part of him keeps persisting that her encounter with Spider-Man, yesterday, has something to do with this, and a smaller part feels joyous at the prospect. But most of him feels envious.

Which doesn't even make sense, because _he_ _is Spider-Man_ , what the heck?!

But the fact that MJ doesn't know that and yet finds Spider-Man fascinating enough to think about him in school is extremely bothersome to him.

_Which is so crazy_ , because it's all speculation! For all he knows, MJ's mom probably found out about the broken perfume bottle and imposed some sort of punishment on the girl that has her daydreaming.

He gives a small sigh when Abe presses the buzzer, breaking him out of his spiralling thoughts.

“Yes, Abe?” MJ asks in a bored tone, gaze trained on the flashcards.

“I think it was Spider-Man!”

Three heads snap up to look at Abe. And then one of them turns to look at Peter with eyes comically widened. Peter's own head turns away to share a confused look with Ned. Then they look at the person still staring at Abe.

“Spider-Man. Seriously. _Seriously_ , Abe?” MJ deadpans. “What, exactly, did he do? Pile up the bricks? Paint the walls?”

Completely clueless, Peter leans back in his seat and looks at Murphy from the corner of his eye. “What was the question?”

“What company was involved in making repairs for the Washington Monument.”

Peter stifles an incredulous chuckle. _Wow_ , Abe really does think highly of him.

“Say, Peter,” Ned suddenly yells from across the room, drawing everyone's attention. The sly look on his face has Peter alert. “You would know, right? I heard Spider-Man tells you _everything_.” Ned shares a small look with Betty. “Didn't he tell you, yesterday, that he met a really pretty girl? Who was it, by the way, you never told me?"

Heat creeps upon Peter cheeks, spreads down to his collarbones and climbs up to his ears. _What the actual_ ** _hell_** _is wrong with Ned?! What is he_ ** _doing_** _? Why_ is he doing this, _oh God_ , does he want Peter to _die_?

Peter straightens in his seat, resolutely looking away from MJ's wide-eyed gaze when his fidgety one accidentally clashes with it.

"I… I didn't tell you because I didn't _know_ , Ned. He…" Peter licks his suddenly very dry lips when he meets MJ's eye again. This time, she has somewhat of a challenging glint in hers. But she also looks kinda nervous, and Peter wonders if she could be putting a brave front, and if so, _why_ could she be doing that. "He never told me who it was."

"Huh. Could it have been _you_ , Betty?" Ned asks, then.

Peter exhales in relief when everyone's attention is drawn to Ned in a chorus of cheers and laughs. Betty Brant's face has turned cherry red when Peter looks her way, and he chuckles when she looks back in panic, shaking his head. He subtly nods, laughing more openly.

_Of course_ he knows Betty didn't meet Spider-Man, _duh_.

MJ loudly clears her throat, making the chatters slowly quieten. "So you guys wanna make fun of Ned's admiration for Betty, huh?" she asks, narrowed eyes scanning the hall, hint of a smirk on her lips, receiving more chuckles in response. "Y'all lazy idiots should research the answer yourself, then. Enough for today, let's go home!"

Peter has a small smile on his face as he exits the hall and joins Ned's side. He gives a sigh of amusement when Ned doesn't even acknowledge him, too deep in a conversation with Betty.

"Parker!"

Peter freezes, heart rate kicking up. He clears his throat and looks over his shoulder. MJ has her lower lip tucked beneath the shapely row of her teeth, one hand tugging at the collar of her plaid and the other clutching the strap of her bag.

Peter's feet stay jammed to the ground. "I'll catch up later, Ned," he unnecessarily mumbles to an ignorant Ned when the latter walks ahead without him. "Y—yes, MJ?"

_Ugh_ , did he just _stutter_?

MJ walks up to him, releasing her lips to curl her them into a bashful and cute—oh, _so, so darn cute_ —smile. "Um. I, uh, wanted to thank you."

Peter frowns, some of the nervousness leaving his body as confusion takes its place. "For what?"

"About Spider-Man…"

Icy fear grips Peter's heart. _What the frack_? _Does she_ ** _know_** _?_

Her brows furrow when Peter stays frozen. "Peter?"

"What?"

" _What_?"

Peter jumps out of his panic, his sweaty palms stuck to his jeans. "Uh, _what about him_?" he almost squeaks out.

MJ's frown dissipates as she breathes in. "I meant, um. You know, he—uh, he probably told you that the pretty—I mean. Um. Looking at how you panicked, I felt like Spider-Man told you he met me. Thank you for not advertising that in front of anybody."

Peter slowly realizes how freaking stupid he is. " _Oh_! Oh, yes. Yeah, yes, yep, he told me. He—he—he told me he landed on a roof, and—and met one of my classmates that had been at the Washington Monument."

MJ squints at him. " _And_ —that's it? How did you know it was me, then?"

Wait, what? Did he just eff it all up? "Well…"

MJ's eyes turn to slits.

Peter gulps loudly. "He—he told me about everything you guys, uh, talked about and I kinda…"

"...guessed?" MJ finishes in a small voice when he trails off, and he gives a timid nod.

MJ's cheeks slowly fill with color. Peter tries to force his gaze away from her, but, _oh God_ , he literally _cannot_ when she looks this adorable.

MJ sputters for a moment before ducking her head, and looking at her wrist watch. "Oh, would you look at the time! It's—it's already been ten minutes. I need to run, now, okay, I'll see you later, Parker, right, um, bye."

Peter is left waving at her retreating form as she hurriedly runs away, breath stuck in his lungs, and heartbeat running a mile a minute.

* * *

Peter's mind is in a haze as he patrols, swinging through the neighborhood.

He’s falling for MJ too damn hard, all too fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He tries to recall how he dealt with his almighty crush on Liz, but—cringing at the cliche—concludes that it would be of no help because how he feels for MJ is a lot stronger. And how he _behaves_ around her, consequently, is _so much worse_.

Peter groans, swinging down to land on a low ceiling to some apartment’s parking lot. Peter hates how he gets all flustered and tongue tied, not just around her, but even when she’s mentioned in conversations he is forced into by with May and Ned.

Ned seems to believe that MJ gets just as much nervous around Peter, and he goes on to provide pieces of evidence and theories to not so subtly imply that she might like Peter back. May, on the other hand, spends eighty-four percent of the time spent with Peter trying to convince him to just ’fess up to “his female friend” (because she doesn’t yet know the whole story, and Peter would like to keep it that way for as long as possible, Ned repeatedly saying MJ’s name to him is more than enough, thank you very much) uncaring of the consequences—and the remaining sixteen percent she spends worrying about his expeditions as Spider-Man and whether he’s eating properly or not.

Ned ended up dry-heaving when May started to dish out pickup lines that she supposed Peter could use, an hour back, and Peter immediately took off to patrol. But then Ned rang him up to bug him about May’s lines, and Peter had to shut the phone connection down.

It’s been barely been a day since they started biting his head off, and Peter’s already started to feel done with them.

Shaking his head to himself, he shifts from his haunches and rests his bum on the ground, preparing to recline for a bit and relax his legs, when—

“Hey, Spider Boy?”

Peter jumps at the sudden call, but then rolls his eyes. “It’s Spider- _Man_ , for God’s sake!”

“Yeah, whatever, listen—uh, I’m behind you.”

Peter stops looking around and immediately twists on his heels. He gasps. “Mister Criminal!”

“Stop—stop calling me that, _jeez_ ,” the guy grimaces. “It’s Davis. Aaron Davis.”

Peter blinks. “Um, did you—did you just give me your _name_?”

Davis’s eyes widen in alarm.

“You know I can very easily track, catch and report you now, right? I’ve got these really amazing, updated new trackers on my suit, now, too, you know? How—how are you even a _criminal_ , this is such a rookie mistake, I mean—”

“Hey, hey—stop!” Davis raises both hands, palms facing Peter. Peter stops speaking, but his eyes are still wide with incredulous fascination behind the mask. Knowing Davis can’t see that, he crosses his arms against his chest in a challenging stance and leans his weight on one foot. “And don’t get so cocky, I—I promise you won’t wanna report, or track, or _wheveter_ me, because I got something for you.”

Peter’s arms fall to his sides as he immediately alerts. “What? Wait. Are you trying to _bribe_ me?”

Davis clicks his tongue. “ _No._ No, dude, what the _hell_? _I_ called for you, didn’t I?”

Peter realizes he really needs to get thoughts of MJ out of his head and focus on his Spiderman duties better. Because, _yes_ , Davis _did_ call for him, and Peter _did_ conveniently forget in the excitement of finally learning one of the New York City’s wanted criminals’ real name.

Peter rolls back his shoulders, eyebrows slanted as he regains focus, Davis raises his.

Peter nods. “Yeah, okay, what have you got?”

Davis exhales, coming up to stand closer to Peter. “You were following those asswipes from your friend’s party, right?”

The suspected-drug-dealers. _How_ does Davis know? “What the—how do you—”

Davis clicks his tongue again. “You wear red and blue spandex, dude, that's not really conspicuous.”

Peter swallows. “Okay, well. Yes. I suspect they’re drug dealers that try to rope in school kids into doing drugs by illegally selling it to them.”

Davis nods. “You’re right. They _do_ illegally sell drugs, but not just to school kids. I accidentally bumped into one of ’em last night and he forcibly set me up an appointment for the deal.”

Peter gasps aloud. “You’re buying drugs from them!”

Davis gives him a look of disgust. “Why would I be telling you about it if I was _actually_ gonna _buy_ them?”

Peter mentally smacks himself. “Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry. Continue?”

“So, yeah. They’re gonna sell me some shit, under the bridge, Wednesday, 10 am. You can catch them red-handed,” Davis finishes with a frown. “Please be on time, dude, and _please_ , for God’s sake, work on your communication skills,” Davis mutters the last part with his face scrunched up.

Peter nods, awkwardly, mind running miles a minute, the happiness from this lead diminishing a bit, because _God knows_ how bad does he need to work on his communication skills.

* * *

Peter won’t say he’s got a hop in his step when he walks down the hallway from his bedroom to the dining room, that night, but he actually _has_ got a hop in his step as he approaches May.

“Back so soon, Mister Superhero?” May’s eyebrows are teasingly raised, but her lips pull up in a smile of utter happiness. “It’s barely seven? I thought you were gonna be out late.”

Peter softly smiles back, plopping down on a couch. “I gotta tell you about this _amazing_ news I got today. But before that, I’m hungry. Did you have dinner?”

“Um, yes, I did, immediately after I left work.” May grimaces, guiltily. “But! I picked up some burritos on my way back. Thought you should pack one to school everyday. Have one now, if you’re hungry!”

Peter’s breath stutters, the food item bringing back memories from Friday’s lunch break with MJ. He licks his lips, clearing his throat to focus on the rest of May’s sentences. “Uh, pack one everyday? Why?”

“Ned might’ve let it slip that you’ve been living off his PB&Js lately.” May narrows her eyes at him, and Peter groans. "I'm not even gonna ask what you're doing with your lunch money."

“I _knew_ leaving him alone with you was a bad idea.”

“What? Oh, come on! He left just ten minutes after you did!”

“ _What_? That’s how long it took for him to rat me out? _God_ , what more would he spill if spent longer, what the _heck_ , Ned!”

“ _More_? Peter Parker, what all _are_ you hiding from me?” May suddenly gasps, burrito in hand, halfway between the microwave and the kitchen counter. “He knows the name of your _female friend_ , right?”

Peter stuffs his face into a cushion. “I’m not telling you today’s good news if you keep this up!”

“I’m your _aunt_ , I have a right to _knowI_!” May rounds on him.

“I’m _sixteen_ , I have a right to _privacy_!” Peter sits up, aggravated.

At this point, Peter’s just having a staring contest with his aunt, across the kitchen counter over an issue that seems to belong with a thirteen year old girl. Is it just him, or is this situation unbelievably ridiculous? To make him feel even dumber, the microwave goes off, and May jumps half a foot in the air.

Peter rolls his eyes and falls back into the couch. May walks up to him with his food in one hand and a bottle of mustard in the other.

“I promise I’ll introduce her to you if something happens between us,” Peter mumbles, accepting the plate. He squeezes a generous amount of mustard over it before looking up at May’s suspicious eyes. “Please, May?”

She exhales, placing an arm around Peter’s shoulders, affectionately. “Alright, sweety. I’ll wait.”

Petre grins. “Now! Onto the news! You know those suspected-drug-dealers I’ve been chasing? Trying to catch ’em in action to confirm my suspicion and get them arrested?”

May nods, eyes rounded with interest. “That's literally all you've been talking about, Peter. Did you finally catch them in action?"

Peter pinches his lips together, eyes narrowed at his burrito. "Not yet, but I'm close. _Very_ close. A covert source told me they're meeting up on Wednesday for a deal. He's given me the time and location. I'm gonna bust them in action!" He grins wide, turning to look at May, but his face starts to fall when May doesn't match his enthusiasm. "May? Hey, I'll be safe, you know that. It's been a while since I've been doing—"

May shakes her head, cutting him off. "No, no, it's not that. I trust you to stay safe, Pete, and I trust Tony Stark's tech to help you. It's just… Your Academic Decathlon final is this Wednesday, isn't it?"

Peter chokes on his food.

What?

He's dead.

* * *


End file.
